


Sonata

by velcroboyfriends



Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Career, Alternate Universe - Musician, Alternate Universe - Pianist, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 11:24:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4477463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velcroboyfriends/pseuds/velcroboyfriends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lee joins a chamber ensemble in London, he doesn't expect to find himself enthralled by the handsome cellist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I. Allegro ma non troppo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naturally, this fic has a strong musical element - so I've made a playlist (on Spotify, [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/1258275809/playlist/3mjYSOmkmyUBeIm39qsMhT)) of all the pieces mentioned in the fic, including an extra one to round out the timing. Of course, everyone reads at different rates, so it might not work out quite right for you. Let me know how it goes, and I'll add more music if needed while I work through this experiment.
> 
> If you don't like music while you read, you can skip the playlist, but do at least give the first movement of the Barber sonata a listen when the time comes, because the entire fic is structured around the sonata.
> 
> The pieces included, in order of appearance, in case you want to listen to them some other way:  
> \- Franz Schubert: 6 Moments musicaux, Op. 94, D. 780: II. Andantino, A-flat major  
> \- Gabriel Fauré: Piano Quartet No.2, Op.45: II. Allegro molto & III. Adagio non troppo  
> \- Samuel Barber: Cello Sonata, Op. 6: I. Allegro ma non troppo  
> \- Jean Sibelius: Piano Quintet in G Minor, JS 159: IV. Scherzo: Vivacissimo  
> \- Frederick Delius: Romance for Cello and Piano
> 
> And now, with all that said, the fic!

Sometimes Lee thought about the other lives he could have led. He'd thought, once, about being an actor, applying to the school of drama at Juilliard instead of the school of music. He could've led a hundred different lives, then, gotten inside the heads of countless other people. He'd thought about dropping it all and moving upstate, finding work growing corn or apples, driving a tractor around and digging into earth with his hands. But when he was sitting at the piano lost in a piece of music, he didn't have time to wonder about other lives he could've had - he was too busy enjoying this one.

He almost forgot he was expecting company this afternoon, wrapped up as he was in Schubert. His fingers wandered over the keys, feeling the melancholy of the piece unfold itself in rich melodies. Schubert was one of his favorites, cliche as some might have thought it - to Lee, there was little better than exploring the emotional depth of the man's work. When he was playing, he played not just notes, but emotions, pouring himself out into his music until the world seemed to disappear. But the harsh ringing broke him from his reverie, and he went to the speaker.

"Hello?" he said, and the other end crackled.

"Hi," a voice said. "This is Richard."

"Right," Lee said, trying to sound casual. He took a deep breath. "Come on up." He buzzed him into the front door, then walked a good distance away from the door to his apartment, hoping to seem like he'd casually wandered over when the anticipated knock came, like he wasn't twitching now, his fingers rubbing over the thighs of his jeans. His heart thudded nearly audibly, creating its own sort of music.

\---

The cellist had already been a long-time regular with the chamber ensemble when Lee joined. Lee didn't even know his name, but he could tell from the casual way he entered the rehearsal hall. The other members greeted him as though they'd done it the same way for years, and he seemed to have a routine in the way he put his case down, off his right shoulder then his left, opened the right clip and then the left.

Lee watched - no, stared was the more accurate description - while the cellist pulled out the endpin anchor, looped it under the chair, opened his bag and took out a pile of sheet music, pulled out his bow and put everything on the stand together, perfectly aligned and balanced. By the time the guy had his cello up on his shoulder, Lee had gone fairly glassy-eyed, and when the man actually looked up to meet Lee's gaze with pure blue eyes, Lee was startled out of his daze.

He quickly turned his eyes to stare at the sheet music laid out in front of him. He could use another go on the runs in the Faure before they started rehearsal, if he wanted to make a good impression on the group. His left hand laid in his lap while his right went through the motions, fingers trickling up and down along the keys. He kept the soft pedal pressed down hard, but he still felt foolishly self-conscious.

"You're the new pianist," a voice said from behind him, a deep, rich baritone with the sort of beautiful accent Lee still hadn't grown immune to, even after living in London for a few years. Lee stopped short and turned around on the bench to meet the cellist's gaze. The man looked pensive, a little closed-off, and Lee felt intimidated in a way he'd never felt in a situation like this before. His knee shook, the pedal bouncing under his foot.

"Yeah," Lee answered. "Yeah, I'm... the pianist." The cellist stood there for a moment, just looking at him, a sleek eyebrow arched. His forehead creased above it in a way that shouldn't have been as sexy as it was. "Lee," he added, reaching out a hand to shake in a gesture that was calculatedly fluid. The cellist took it, and his hand was warm, big, his broad fingertips rough when he folded them around the back of Lee's hand.

"Richard," the man said, and Lee did his best to give him the trademark smile.

"Nice to meet you, Richard," Lee said, and he was proud that his voice didn't quake a bit.

\---

When he heard Richard's knock, firm and sure against the wood of the door, Lee stood still for a moment, by the piano. He took a deep breath in, let it out slowly.

"Confidence," he whispered to himself as he relaxed his shoulders down and back, straightened his torso. He took his time getting to the door - not too eager, but not rude either, he hoped. When he opened the door, Richard was looking much less casual, hands tucked firmly into his pockets and lower lip thin - he was biting at the inside of it. Lee felt settled, a little bit. The rehearsal hall may have been Richard's turf, but this was his, and he had home advantage.

"Come on in," Lee said, stepping back into his apartment. Richard entered cautiously, crossing directly to the piano where it sat against the wall of the main room. It was an upright, and Lee had to stuff a ton of padding behind it to stop the neighbors complaining, but the keyboard had good action and in a city as crowded and expensive as London, space was hard to come by - it had to do.

"Can I get you anything?" Lee asked as Richard pulled his cello case off his back (right shoulder, left shoulder), set it down on the floor near the piano, unhooked the clasps (right clasp, left clasp). "Water? Tea? Soda?"

"No, thank you," Richard said politely, business-like, as he pulled out his endpin anchor. He looked around.

"Oh, damn, sorry." Lee shook his head as he went to the little dining area, pulled a chair out from the table. "This okay?" he asked as he brought the chair into the main room.

"Yeah, that should be fine." Richard had his binder of music and his bow out on the stand Lee kept by the piano, although the thing was wobbly as hell, and the objects couldn't quite stay balanced. "Thanks," he said again, and took the chair, looping the anchor under the leg before he set it down. While he finished his routine, Lee got settled at the piano, putting away Schubert and taking out Barber. There were a few bits in the final movement that still needed work, and he drilled through them until he heard Richard speak behind him.

"Sorry, what was that?" As Lee looked over his shoulder, Richard cleared his throat.

"An A. Can you give me one?"

"Yeah, yeah." Flustered, Lee turned back to the piano. He tried to ignore the flush creeping up the backs of his ears as he pressed down a key. Richard cleared his throat again.

"The lower one," the man said softly, and Lee blinked. Fuck, he thought, and moved down an octave. He held the damper pedal down, sustaining the note as Richard drew bow across strings. Lee shivered even at that first note, warm and rich just like Richard's voice. The feeling wore off, fortunately, as Richard tuned each string against the other. Lee did not turn around to watch the man twist knobs and pegs - it would be too much, he knew. Far too much.

\---

Richard watched him during rehearsal. He supposed it was to be expected, in a small ensemble. They had to check in with one another so their entrances would be together, their rests collective. He looked at everyone in the group at different times, when they had a cut-off together or close lines of harmony. He looked to Graham, the bassist, especially - as the de facto rhythm section in a group with no percussion, they had to be in sync to hold the group together. This wasn't looking, though - this was watching.

The first few times he looked over at Richard, he didn't think anything odd of it. They'd lock eyes, share a nod as they moved into some new passage, then Lee would look back at his music. But throughout that first rehearsal, it seemed to him that nearly every time he looked at Richard, the man was staring at him. And after a while, they'd never lock eyes - rather, Richard would look away as though caught. It would have unsettled Lee if he hadn't felt the urge to stare right back.

The rehearsal went well, though, despite the huge distraction that was being ogled (relatively respectfully, at least) by the very handsome cellist. Lee was a professional, after all - unlike some members of the group, apparently - and he could hold it together just fine. He even got the runs in the Faure, for the most part, although his hand slipped once when he looked up to find Richard's gaze burning a hole in his face.

Although Lee's entrance to the rehearsal space hadn't been especially noted when everyone was concentrated on getting warmed up and ready, now that they were done practicing, the other musicians effectively queued up to greet him. Although the group changed configurations depending on repertoire, for now it was the five of them: four string players and him.

Graham gave Lee a firm handshake and a fierce-eyed smile before carting his bass out; Peter, the violist and effective leader of the group, thanked him for joining them and praised him for work well done, in that particular way that implies that work well done means not perfection reached, but the promise of _more_ work expected to be done equally well. It was encouraging and frightening in equal parts. Last was the violinist, who gave Lee a bright smile.

"It's good to have you with us," she said, shaking Lee's hand.

"Yeah, thanks," Lee said, "I'm glad to be here. You're Evangeline, right?"

"Oh, I'm not fancy, Evie's just fine." Evie looked over her shoulder, where Richard was exiting quietly, cello strapped to his back. "You seem to have made a good impression."

"I think Peter liked me," Lee answered innocently, and Evie gave him a _look_.

"Yeah, I think _everyone_ liked you," she said, and Lee tried not to grin like an idiot. He failed a bit.

\---

Once Richard was finished tuning, he went quiet behind him, and Lee finally turned to meet an expectant gaze that seemed calculatedly casual, his cello propped up on one shoulder with his arm slung across it in a pose of practiced comfort. Lee licked his lips, and Richard said nothing.

"Should we just do a run-through to start off? Find the problem spots?"

"Sounds good," Richard said simply, straightening his music where it lay on the stand. The thing wobbled, and his bow almost toppled to the ground, but he caught it and straightened the stand. Lee turned and flipped back to the first page.

"On your start, then," Lee said, positioning his fingers over the keys, and listened for Richard's intake of breath. The man breathed deep, paused for a moment, then began.

It took a bit, at the beginning, to get synced up. Barber was hardly the most accessible of composers, and the parts were strange, locking together in unexpected ways and then unlocking in disjointed passages. Lee liked to take advantage of moments of slowness in a piece like this to allow the listeners to get their bearings, but Richard seemed to stick firmly to his own internal clock, substituting the tempos Lee proposed with his playing for his own stricter one. They struggled through the first few pages, playing almost like they were separate soloists.

But a couple minutes in, there came a moment of rest for the piano, where Richard was left to introduce the next slow motif on his own. For all his strictness before, the notes came soaring freely out of the man's cello, and Lee came in softly when it was time, following his lead and listening to the sensitive, almost romantic melody. It was Lee's turn to echo it, then, and he poured every bit of sentiment he had into it. Richard followed his lead perfectly.

The next passage had them trading off at their own pace, and they went through it playfully, changing the ways they answered one another as the whim hit them. It was unusually fun, the way they interpreted each two-note segment like they were playing a game of tennis, volleying the notes back and forth between them. Lee didn't often find a musician he could work so well off of in pieces like this.

That joy followed them through the rest of the movement, through the aggressive middle section which they pounded out with vigor (punctuated by the flowing grace of Lee's high runs at points), then to the more sentimental final section, which Richard played soaringly, moving between rich low notes and more exposed high tones with impressive fluidity.

When they reached the final resounding notes of the movement, Lee felt transported, like he'd left the world for a bit in that way one only can through being absorbed in the playing of music. They faded the notes softer and softer until Richard cut them off with another intake of breath. Lee wasn't sure the man had breathed at all between starting and ending.

"Wow," Lee said softly, turning around to look at Richard.

"The beginning," the other man said with a wince, and Lee nodded.

"Let's work on it."

\---

At the next rehearsal, Richard seemed to have recovered from whatever disease of awkwardness had ailed him the previous week. He still looked at Lee where needed, of course, but there were far more times when Lee looked up to find his gaze far away from his own face. It was a relief, he supposed, but in a way he'd liked it, being looked at. Not being looked at made him realize that perhaps he'd been staring a bit himself, and still was. Now that he didn't have Richard's gaze to focus on, his own was becoming apparent.

Lee became stricter with himself, made himself look at Graham, Peter and Evie as much as possible. Perhaps he'd been the one who'd started it all in the first place - perhaps he'd been ogling Richard, and the man had simply been trying to figure him out. But Lee was determined to act casual about it all, and the second rehearsal seemed to go well, despite this new layer of thought giving Lee even more reasons to be distracted. He was so lost in thought that he didn't watch the time at all, and it took him by surprise when Peter called it after a final run of the Sibelius.

"Good job tonight, guys," Peter said as he stood from his chair. "Everyone up for the pub?"

"Pub night!" Evie echoed enthusiastically, and Graham assented. Lee tried not to watch too carefully for Richard's reaction, but he caught the man giving a solemn nod. Evie had approached Lee already. "We go over to McKellan's every couple weeks after rehearsal. Group bonding time." She nudged Lee. "You up for it?"

"Definitely," Lee said. He could use a beer - it had been a tough rehearsal.

"First round's on me," Peter said as he packed his instrument away, and the group let out a collective whoop. Lee couldn't help smiling as he collected his music into his bag.

"Hey," he heard behind him, in a distinctively familiar voice, and Lee's heart leapt into his throat. He turned around to find Richard, cello slung over his back. "The Barber, d'you want to work on it separately? Peter doesn't usually give a lot of time in rehearsal for duets."

"Oh!" Lee shouldn't have been excited at that, but his breath came faster all the same. "I'm free tomorrow afternoon, if that works for you."

"Sure," Richard said. "How about one? Give us some time to sleep off the pub." Lee chuckled softly.

"Sounds great." Lee pulled a spare piece of paper out of his binder, just some scrap he kept around to make notes on. He scribbled his address down, and Richard pocketed it. "It's a date." Shit, had he really said that? He hoped Richard wouldn't read too much into it - and indeed, the man looked unfazed as he nodded, then turned to make his way to the door.

It was a short walk to McKellan's - the place was just a couple blocks away from the rehearsal space. Peter led the way, with Evie following closely and Lee next to her, swept up her aura of cheer. Richard and Graham took up the back, following at a small distance while they chatted to one another. The pub was warm after the chilly evening air, and cozy and quiet.

"What a pleasure," the bartender said, stepping up to the bar as the group approached. He was tall and grey-haired, with big blue eyes and the sideways smile of someone who was always about to laugh at his own joke. "The lady and gentlemen of the London Chamber Ensemble."

"Hi, Ian," Peter said, leaning against the old, dark wood bar. "A round of whatever, on me. Whiskey and coke for me." He looked back at the group. Richard and Graham each ordered a matching Guinness.

"My usual, sweetie," Evie said.

"Of course, my dear," Ian answered, giving her a fond look. He turned to Lee then. "A new face - how very exciting. And a cute one, too," he added to Peter, looking like an incorrigible child. Lee smiled sheepishly, giving him a wave.

"I'm Lee," he said, "And I'll have a gin and tonic."

"A G and T for Lee," Ian announced with relish, as though it were a line from Shakespeare, and set to work pouring as Peter led the group back to a little scarlet-upholstered booth, the table and benches of the same dark wood as the bar. Lee climbed in first as the other musicians piled their instruments in a neighboring booth - perhaps not the safest, or the most considerate, but it seemed to be the way they did things.

Evie and Peter clambered in on the same side as him, leaving the two other men to fill out the other side of the booth. Lee did his best to hide his combined excitement and nerves when Richard was the first to slip in, sliding down until the two of them were across from one another. Richard shot Lee a tight, polite little smile before turning to continue the topic he and Graham had been discussing on the way to the pub, and Lee listened to Evie raving to Peter about a new composer she'd heard at some post-postmodern gig she'd gone to.

Soon Ian was coming over with a tray full of drinks for each of them, and an amber shot of whiskey each besides.

"You're too good to us," Peter said, and Ian shook his head.

"It's all I can do for my most loyal customers," the older man insisted, and gave them all one more cheeky grin before heading back to the bar. Evie blew him a kiss before picking up two shots eagerly, handing one off to Lee. Quickly each of them had a little glass in hand, holding them slightly aloft.

"To our new partner in this musical adventure we undertake," Peter said grandly, and they all lifted their glasses.

"Cheers," Richard said, looking at Lee, and Lee met his gaze while they touched the rims of their glasses together and tossed the shots back. Richard actually cracked a smile as they all overturned their empty shot glasses. Lee took a sip of his drink to chase the burn from his throat, and when he looked up again, Richard was still smiling at him over the rim of his pint glass.

\---

"Allegro," Richard insisted. "'Cheerful' - well, as cheerful as Barber gets. We can't drag on these bits."

"'Ma non troppo,'" Lee shot back, "'Not too much.' He's giving us license to ease up a little here and there, when it's warranted. And it _is_."

"Not here." Richard was even more striking like this, his brow furrowed and eyes burning. Lee thought he could argue musical details with him for an eternity, if it made him look this... well, this beautiful. "If we let the tempo slip here, the whole thing slides into boredom."

"Couldn't we just _try_ it?" Lee was fully turned around on the bench now, holding the music in his tight-gripping hands. "Just in this bit here," he said, pointing, "And here, where the first motive repeats. We've got to give people time to hear it in all the mess."

"The _mess_?" Lee thought Richard's eyes were going to pop out of his head. "You look at those lines of harmony and tell me it's a mess. Go on, then." Lee sighed.

"I misspoke. It's just... not what I'm used to."

"Tell me about it," Richard said with a sigh, and Lee furrowed his brow. He shook his head. "I suppose as long as we make up the time - I am _not_ dragging on this movement."

"I don't intend to drag." Lee turned on the bench, putting the music back to rest on the piano. His fingers hovered over the keys. "Shall we, then?"

They worked through the movement again, and again, until it was hammered out to something nearing perfection - although Lee's idea of perfection seemed to be Richard's idea of a good start. Lee knew that he was fatiguing, that he needed a bit of a break for both fingers and mind if they were going to make it through another half-hour of this.

"Hey, how 'bout a tea break?" Lee suggested, turning away from the piano, and although Richard looked like he'd rather keep working, he nodded solemnly. As Lee rose from the bench to head to the kitchen, Richard got up, leaning his cello against the chair. Lee looked back, as he entered the small room, to make sure the man was trailing him.

He busied himself with filling the kettle, lighting the stove and setting it on the burner, plucking the tea things from the dish drainer. When Lee let himself look, Richard was looking pensively at the collection of teas on the counter beside the microwave.

"See anything you like?" Lee asked, and when Richard turned to look at him, his breath caught. But the man held up a tin of classic English Breakfast, the possibility of any double meaning faded from his mind. "Good choice," Lee said weakly, returning to the dish drainer for his tea ball. His fingers brushed Richard's when he took the tea tin from him, and he shivered slightly.

Filling the ball with tea, clicking it back together and hooking the end of the chain over the rim of the teapot as Lee dropped the ball in served as a distraction for only a moment, but that job done and the kettle barely halfway to boiling, he could think of nothing else to do but to look back up at Richard, still standing by the counter stoically. They looked at one another, and Lee wished for Richard to be arguing again, as annoying as it had been - anything but this silence.

"So, uh," Lee said, and although his mind tried to fight it, he knew where this had to go. He bit at his lower lip. "Are we going to talk about last night?"

\---

Peter had bought the second round, too, feeling generous from the decent amount of beer and whiskey in his system, and that round had come with another round of shots from Ian, and more drinks had followed, those, and although the cold London air had done a good job of sobering him up, Lee still felt good and drunk as he approached his street. It had been a night of good drinks and even better conversation, especially once the alcohol had loosened their tongues.

The big surprise of the evening had been Richard, whose face took on a strangely charming flush with each drink. He'd opened up, sharing stories and thoughts and one really awful a-blonde-walks-into-a-bar joke, the awfulness of which had only increased each time he'd tried to improve its delivery throughout the evening. Lee had found himself talking primarily to Richard, funnily enough, the other three in their group seeming to leave them to converse one-on-one.

Their conversation had continued as the group had stumbled out onto the streets. Watching the others with their big instrument cases, Lee had never felt happier to be a pianist. Graham, fortunately, opted to hail a cab - otherwise Lee wasn't sure how he would have dragged his barely-cooperating wheeled case home. Evie and Peter had branched off in their own ways, each tilting sideways just a bit toward whichever arm was holding their instrument.

Another surprise, a delightful one, had been that Richard lived quite near to Lee's apartment, and they continued talking as they walked home, Lee keeping an eye on the cello strapped to Richard's back, worried he might just topple backwards and be stuck wriggling around like a turtle. The image amused him and concerned him in equal parts, and they took the route home slowly, carefully, until they were passing the door to Lee's place.

"This is me," Lee said, coming to a stop, and Richard stopped too, looking up at the building. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then." He moved back toward the door, but Richard stepped forward, and Lee paused. Richard was scrutinizing his face. "What?" Lee asked, and Richard took another step toward him.

"Can I..." Richard muttered, reaching out to place a hand on Lee's waist, and Lee dipped his chin in a semi-nod. Richard's blue eyes were overwhelming, and Lee looked away from them, his eyes flicking down to the man's lips. They both held their breath. Richard's hand twitched against Lee's waist. He leaned forward.

It was a tentative brush of lips, barely a kiss at first. Lee let Richard lead it, nervous as the man seemed, and although the man started cautiously, once they'd made contact, Richard surged into the kiss, his beard delightfully rough on Lee's face as they tilted their heads and slotted together perfectly. Lee's hands wandered over Richard's neck, his jaw, cupping his head as their mouths opened, the sweet slide of lips turning to a tangle of tongues. Richard sighed, sliding his hands around to grip at the small of Lee's back.

Lee wasn't one for public displays like this, for making out in the middle of the street, but this moment was so perfect, their bodies warm against the chill air where they pressed together, no other sound but for their breathing, growing heavier with each passing moment, and the soft sounds their mouths made. It felt as though there were no one else in the city except for the two of them, wrapped up in one another.

When Richard came up for air, Lee leaned his forehead against the other man's, grinning wide, but Richard looked concerned, and he shifted back. Lee arched his eyebrows, and Richard stepped back fully, breaking the contact between them. Lee's body felt the ache of their parting acutely, and he opened his mouth to protest, but Richard interrupted him.

"I'm sorry," Richard said, half-covering his mouth with one hand. He took another step back. "I shouldn't have - _fuck_ , I'm sorry." He turned, then, hurried off down the street, leaving Lee cold and stunned, his lips still tingling. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. There is more of Mirror, Mirror coming, I promise! But the muse really grabbed me for this one, and I have to follow inspiration when it strikes.


	2. II. Adagio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard has a rather complicated answer to Lee's question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added the pieces for this chapter to the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/1258275809/playlist/3mjYSOmkmyUBeIm39qsMhT). The first couple pieces are not strictly classical, but they have such a great mood for this section of the fic and Andrew Bird is a fantastic violinist.
> 
> Pieces included:  
> Andrew Bird: I Want to See Pulaski at Night: Hover I & Hover II  
> Samuel Barber: Cello Sonata, Op. 6: II. Adagio  
> Antonin Dvorak: Piano Quartet in E flat, Op. 87: II. Lento

The window behind Richard let light stream in, cloudy as the day was. It was nearly always cloudy in London, a change from Lee's childhood in Oklahoma, in Dubai, in Texas, always sunny. Most people hated the rain, but Lee loved it. Rain was something exciting, a relief to the dry ground, where he came from. When clouds gathered tense and black, when the tension broke and sent water pouring out, Lee felt like the world was coming back to life.

While Richard stood silent against the counter, Lee hoped the tension would break soon. His question had left Richard stunned, but Lee was patient when he had to be. It was a process of distracting himself, of looking at the clouds outside the window, of watching the way Richard's shifting back and forth changed the way the light came through the window.

"What about last night?" Richard said, playing dumb. He was staring at the floor, now, not daring to look up.

"You _did_ kiss me, right?" Lee asked sardonically. "I didn't just hallucinate that?" Richard was silent, nervous fingers twitching in his pockets. "You kissed me, apologized, and ran off. Is that some passionate-fucked-up-artist act, or...?"

"No," Richard said. He took a deep breath in, shifting upward. He exhaled. "I shouldn't have done that," he continued, finally.

"That's what you said last night." Lee crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You what, you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend?"

"No, no." Richard's eyes searched Lee's face, like he was looking for an answer written on him. He looked confused, his eyes tracking back and forth. "Not that."

"What, then?" Lee arched an eyebrow. "Closet case? Cause I've been there, and it's..."

"No," Richard said again. "Well, I mean. Not really."

"Not _really_." Richard licked his lips. He leaned back against the counter, like he was trying to get as far away from Lee as possible. Under his hands, where they gripped the formica, there were crumbs Lee hadn't cleaned up. He wanted to sweep them away, now, but even more he wanted to figure out what was happening here.

"I don't know," Richard said, moving a hand to rub over his face. He sighed deeply. "I'm not usually attracted to men," he continued slowly, choosing his words carefully. "It's not like it's never happened before, but I've never... explored the idea. And I've never been sure."

"Sure of what?" Lee'd been sure since the age of ten, probably even before then, if he was being honest with himself. He'd had his first crush, then, his first real one - and he'd found out the consequences of letting it show, the very unpleasant consequences. If he'd had the luxury of being unsure, it would have changed a lot of things for him.

"Sure if it's _real_ , sure if it's... not just some platonic appreciation of..." Richard stared at the floor.

"Of what?" Lee bit his lip, tilted his head.

"Of beauty," Richard muttered, and looked up again, at Lee, his eyes shining. "Perhaps I just realize you're good-looking, perhaps I also want to be your friend, and the combined feelings somewhat resemble real attraction." He looked down at his feet again. "Or perhaps it's more. But if it's not... I can't make you my experiment, that's not fair at all."

Lee knew that, somewhere, there had to be a gay guy who hadn't lived the exquisite torture of falling for a straight guy, who hadn't been kissed - fucked, even - and expected something to come of it only to find it was just someone trying it out. He envied that guy, because it certainly wasn't him. He'd been burned in situations like this before, and had sworn to never let it happen again.

But when Richard met his eyes again, it didn't feel like someone experimenting. He saw heat in that look, had felt it in his kiss last night. Everything about this told him to run the other way, but some stupid part of his brain told him to step forward away from the stove, to cross the tiled floor to where Richard was gripping the counter, knuckles white.

Lee liked that Richard was tall, that Lee didn't loom over him. He was big, evenly matched, especially when his body straightened away from the counter. He still had to look up, a little, at Lee, but it didn't feel like such a gulf of distance as Lee pressed a tentative hand to the curve of Richard's elbow.

"What if I'm a willing subject?" Lee asked, stepping firmly now into Richard's space, although he left him enough room that he could come closer if he wanted. "Someone has to be the trial run for each of us, right? My someone was a long time ago, but..."

"If we were to do this," Richard said, "If we were to try this, and if it didn't work for me, if it didn't feel right, if I had to break things off. If I'd led you on all that time only to hurt you - I couldn't take that kind of guilt."

"All about you, huh?" Lee phrased it gently as he could. "I think that's my choice to make, isn't it? If I want that risk. Hmm?" Richard nodded tentatively. "And I want it," Lee said. His hand on Richard's elbow tightened slightly. His head angled down, tilted, not quite closing the distance. Richard stared at his lips, licking his own. He turned his head upward, angled it the other way, placed a hand on Lee's arm. And he leaned in.

The press of their lips together was delicious, even better now, with none of the blur of alcohol taking away from the sensation. Lee felt every bit of the kiss in the highest definition - the soft scratch of Richard's beard, the firm press of his nose into Lee's cheek, the unbelievable softness and warmth of his lips. He gave back only what he was given, took nothing Richard didn't offer. They kept only those three points of contact between them - hands, arms and lips - purer than any kiss Lee'd had in years.

Simple as it was, the kiss left Lee breathless when Richard finally pulled away, leaning their foreheads together.

"That has to feel real," Lee murmured. "Doesn't it?" Richard looked into his eyes. The silence in the air was palpable until it was cut through with the high whistle of the kettle boiling. Lee licked his lips; he didn't move. Richard looked around him at the stove.

"Are you going to get that?" Lee sighed and dropped his hand away from Richard's elbow. He turned away to the stove, turning the dial until the burner died and the kettle quieted. He went to work, lifting the kettle off the stove and turning to the teapot on the counter next to it. He poured the water in carefully, watched the water swirl, slowly taking on the color of the tea. The kettle went back onto the stove, and Lee picked up the hook on the tea ball, tugging the chain around in circles to move the ball through the water, leaving trails of amber where it moved.

"Next weekend," Richard said from behind him, "Can I take you out to dinner? We can see how it goes, and... go from there." Lee placed the hook back on the rim of the teapot and turned back to face Richard.

Lee wanted to press Richard against the counter, to plunder his mouth, to twist fingers into all that dark hair. He wanted to see every inch of the man's body, to drink in his scent, to know what his skin tasted like, what his come tasted like. He wanted to make him moan and beg and cry out, to whisper everything he wanted into Richard's ear, see the way he'd undoubtedly blush at the mildest suggestion, let alone all the filth Lee could dredge up. Instead, he smiled, guileless.

"That sounds great," Lee said, and he hoped it was true.

\---

"So," Peter said, "How's about we hear some of the Barber? You've been working on it?"

"Yeah, yeah," Richard said, rising from his chair and laying his cello down. He pulled stand and chair into position nearer the piano, while the other three in the group moved away to give them room. "Keeping it snappy at the beginning then?" he said to Lee before turning to get his cello.

"Come on," Lee shot back, and Richard gave him a sly smile as he carried the instrument over and took his seat. He was a picture of grace as he set the endpin into its anchor and lowered the neck of the cello onto his shoulder, then picked up the bow to hover over the strings. Lee locked eyes with Richard for the start of the movement, watched for his nod and breath in before they started in.

Lee barely looked at the music throughout the first movement, not so much because he was comfortable with it after working on it last weekend, but because he wanted to watch Richard's face as he played. At his apartment, they hadn't been able to look at one another, but in this space they connected far more deeply in the music. Richard had talked a good game about keeping the tempo up, but he followed Lee through the more rubato segments with none of the wordless bickering they'd been doing the first time they played through the piece.

By the time they reached the end of the movement, those final notes, they were staring into one another's eyes with unmatched intensity, every note's onset and cut-off seamlessly synchronized. If Lee had breathed or blinked in the past several minutes, he hadn't noticed it, wrapped up as he was in the amazing feeling of playing music with this man. As the final note faded, Evie let out a little whoop that brought Lee back to the world, and he jerked his eyes away to where the rest of the ensemble sat in a make-shift audience of chairs.

"That sounds great," Peter said. "How about the adagio, then?"

"We haven't worked on it much yet," Lee explained.

"No matter - let's hear it." Peter Jackson was not the kind of man one said 'no' to, and Lee flipped the page, looking over the second movement.

"Tell me when you're ready," Lee said to Richard softly, and the other man nodded as he moved the sheet music around on his stand. He nodded after a moment, picking up his bow again. Lee poised his fingers over the keys, locked eyes with Richard, and took a deep breath in, lifting his chin.

The sentimental moments of the first movement were nothing compared to the beauty with which Richard imbued even the first passage of the adagio. He barely looked at the music, but he didn't look at Lee either, his dark eyelashes shadowing his cheek as he sank into the music. His fingers moved with a strong elegance over the neck of the cello, and his wrist glided as he stroked bow across strings. Lee's mind swirled with thoughts of what those hands could do to him, and he had to look away, following his lead by ear rather than by eye.

Where before Richard had been a slave to meter, he played freely now, pouring expression into each note. The slow portion was over too soon when they reached the second segment of the piece, but beauty was replaced by glee as they both sped together into the next part, matching tempo precisely. Richard grinned at Lee as his fingers danced over his instrument, and Lee found himself almost laughing. It was incredible, the way they could share such joy together.

They took it slow again, through the final segment - it was Richard's turn again to lead the pace, and Lee's to support him with drawn-out chords all the way to the end. Lee watched him now, made himself do it. Richard's eyes were open this time, wide as they stared into Lee's own. Richard's tongue darted out over his lower lip, followed by teeth, and then he was looking down again at the cello, as though he were now the one who couldn't handle meeting Lee's gaze.

He couldn't stay looking away for long, though, it seemed, for as they reached the end of the movement, they caught eyes again, breathed together as they settled into the final notes. There was silence throughout the rehearsal space as the last of the sounds faded away.

"Very nice," Peter said, after a moment. He nodded solemnly, looked back and forth between the two of them, then rose briskly from his chair. "All right, then, on to the Dvorak!"

\---

"Okay, so," Evie whispered, "Are you and Richard..." She made an obscene gesture, and Lee winced. "Or do you just have some platonic eye-fucking thing going?"

"Neither," Lee said, turning back. He kept his voice low, leaning down to talk close to Evie's ear. "We're... taking it slow."

"Taking it slow, hmm?" The corner of Evie's mouth quirked as she turned the peg on her bow, loosening the strings. "Is our Richie a _virgin_?"

"No!" That came out a bit louder than Lee had intended, attracting Graham's attention. He lowered his voice again. "I don't think so... not with women, anyway." A flush of pink crept up Lee's cheeks. It was a thought he'd considered before, of course. After Richard had said he'd never explored his attraction to men, it would have been impossible _not_ to think about it.

Some guys would meet a man like Richard and turn the other way immediately, not wanting to get mixed up in all the issues that came with someone who was still inexperienced, still closeted in theory. Some guys would find that lack of experience a turn-off. Lee was not those guys.

It made him feel dirty, how much it turned him on. He'd gotten off multiple times over the past week, thinking about Richard giving a blowjob for the first time, how he'd be tentative at first but, surely, take to it quickly. He'd thought even more about how _tight_ he'd be. Unless he'd had some adventurous girlfriends, Lee was sure he'd never been fucked before, and the idea of introducing him to that... he had to stop thinking about it even now, before he found himself in an uncomfortable state.

"Huh," Evie mused, placing her bow back in the case with her violin. She gave Lee an embarrassingly dirty look. "Bet you'd love to pop his cherry."

"Shut _up_ ," Lee hissed. "I don't even know if... we might never... we're going out to dinner tomorrow night."

"Buy him a nice steak, then, some fancy wine," Evie said. "And I will expect full details." She closed her case, clicking the latches into place. "I've always been curious about him." As Evie picked up her case and moved past Lee to leave, she went up on tip-toe to whisper, "Bet he's got a huge dick."

"Oh my god," Lee groaned in embarrassment. Richard probably did, too, but Lee certainly wasn't telling, ever. He lingered back for a second, let Evie get a head start, then headed for the door. Richard was standing outside - waiting for Graham, Lee presumed.

"See you tomorrow," Richard said quietly as he passed by, and Lee gave him a casual wave. No matter how much he was questioned, he would never admit that his heart was fluttering hopefully in his chest.

\---

"That was nice," Richard said, and it had been. He'd shown up at Lee's apartment to walk there together, like a gentleman, in a sweet little cardigan and neatly-knotted necktie and everything. It had made Lee's chest tighten just to see him standing on his front step, hands folded in front of him, stoic and proper and achingly handsome. They'd gone for Italian at a nice place just down the street, with good food and wine and even better conversation. It seemed that they had an endless font of shared interests, and Lee couldn't imagine ever running out of things to talk about.

Now, though, as they stood again on Lee's front step, he found himself speechless. They'd gone on their trial date, and as far as Lee was concerned, it had gone perfectly. But a good dinner didn't necessarily mean attraction, didn't mean romance. It could just as easily have been that Richard had enjoyed it as he would enjoy a meal with a friend. He'd shown no sign to indicate otherwise, hadn't taken Lee's hand or even stood too close. So as Lee looked at Richard, he felt fear racing through his brain.

"So," Lee said haltingly. "How is, uh... what do you think?" Richard bit his lip and, in a move that brought some relief to Lee's tense brow, stepped closer, closer than friendly. He gave Lee one of those searching looks of his, laid a warm hand to his shoulder.

The kiss was unexpected, nothing about it telegraphed in Richard's movements until it was happening and their lips were pressed together. Richard wrapped his other arm around Lee's neck, arching closer to him, and Lee pulled him yet closer with hands on his lower back. Richard sucked Lee's bottom lip into his mouth, flicked his tongue over it, caught it between his teeth and let it slide out slowly.

"I think," Richard said softly, their lips still close enough that they brushed slightly with every word. "That tonight could be considered our third date." The pub, their rehearsal last weekend, and tonight: three times they'd been alone together, at least, if those counted as dates. The previous two had ended in a kiss - Lee hoped that kiss wouldn't be the end of this one. He grinned as Richard continued, knowing where this was going. "I think that's quite slow enough, don't you?"


	3. III. Allegro appassionata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matters heat up between Lee and Richard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added the pieces for this chapter to the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/1258275809/playlist/3mjYSOmkmyUBeIm39qsMhT). 
> 
> Pieces included:  
> \- Samuel Barber: Cello Sonata, Op. 6: III. Allegro appassionata  
> \- Alfredo Casella: Tarantella, Op. 54  
> \- Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco: Toccata, Op. 83: I. Introduzione  
> \- Frederic Chopin: Nocturne No. 3 in B major, Op. 9, No. 3

Lee's hands fumbled just getting his wallet out of his pocket, and while he was usually suspicious of the ease of the long-range key cards that let him into his apartment building, he was glad of it now, as he held his wallet in the vicinity of the scanner and the door to the building popped open. He could hardly breathe as he and Richard made their way to the elevator.

They didn't touch one another in the elevator, or in the hallway where Lee struggled fitting the key into the lock of his door. But once the door was closed, Richard was on him again, diving into the kiss with fervor. It was all tongue and teeth, none of the caution that had filled their first few kisses. Richard's hands roamed over Lee's body, finally landing on the buttons of his shirt. His fingers were clumsy at undoing them, but the slide of his lips kept things interesting until Richard was shoving Lee's shirt down his shoulders and off his arms.

Richard just looked for a moment, then followed his gaze with fingers that traced over the lines of Lee's chest, his stomach, the hint of hipbone. Part of Lee wondered if Richard missed the lack of curves, but that part shut up as Richard's mouth took up the journey, tongue tracing over the freckles on his shoulders and chest. The other man's fingers worked at Lee's belt, moving fast, so fast now.

"Come on," Lee urged, walking backward toward his room. This was going to take place properly, in a bed. He almost ran into the doorway - Richard was no help navigating, his face buried in Lee's neck where he was sucking at the skin in a way that made Lee arch and gasp. It was by the grace of some god that Lee managed to get them in the room, and the bed took him by surprise as he ran into it with the backs of his shins and toppled back onto it. Richard kicked his shoes off and crawled up over him eagerly.

That sweet little cardigan and neck tie became irritating now, getting in the way of the skin Lee desperately needed to touch. They worked together, undoing buttons, slipping the tie loose enough to pull over Richard's head, shucking layers of fabric from his body until finally their bare torsos pressed together. Something about that moment, about that first real skin-to-skin contact, was always lovely, and with Richard it was truly beautiful, how their bodies fit together perfectly.

Lee couldn't relish the feeling long, for soon Richard was moving down the bed, unzipping and unbuttoning and tugging until Lee was bare from head to toe. He felt more than naked under Richard's gaze, as he watched the other man take in the sight of him. A man's body was a sight that was always familiar and unfamiliar at once, and Lee could see the hesitation in Richard's eyes.

"We don't have to -" Lee started, but the sentence trailed off into a soft moan as Richard took Lee's cock firmly in hand, stroking from base to head.

"I want to," Richard said, his voice low and warm and unbelievably sexy. Lee thought he could get off on that voice alone - and maybe sometime they could try it. They had so many things to try, but for now he was happy with the simple pleasure of Richard's grip around his cock.

He took to it quickly - to be expected, since it was a set of motions Lee would hope Richard was already familiar with. He surprised Lee with his inventiveness, sometimes teasing with feather-light strokes, sometimes swirling his thumb over the head and under its crown, sometimes gripping firm and tight and fast. Richard's fingers moved over him almost like the way they moved over the neck of his cello, and the sounds he brought out of Lee's throat may not have been as beautiful as the music he played, but as Richard caught onto the right movements, he played Lee all the same.

"I," Richard murmured, leaning over Lee's hips, "I want to try..." His breath ghosted over Lee's cock, and Lee gasped. "Can I?"

"Oh my god, do you really have to ask that?" Richard grinned.

"Just making sure," Richard said softly, and his hand stilled at the base of Lee's cock. Richard looked at it, observed it, like he was considering where to begin on a scoop of ice cream. Then his lips parted, and he pressed the tentative tip of his tongue to Lee's cock, and Lee was tipping his head back as the other man traced a meandering path up the shaft.

He didn't explore long - Richard was a man who knew what had to be done and stuck to it. Soon, Lee was gasping as the head of his cock was enveloped in the warm, wet heat of Richard's mouth. The man bobbed up and down carefully, just taking a bit of him. It wasn't outstanding work by any means, but it felt wonderful all the same, the simple movements of his mouth.

After a bit, Richard began to take more into his mouth, and to move his hand as well. Lee hummed softly, reached down to clasp his hand over Richard's left hand, which rested on Lee's thigh. He gripped tight when Richard made an experimental sweep of his tongue along the upstroke of his mouth.

"Yeah," Lee groaned softly, "Like that." Richard seemed to gain confidence at that. He flicked his tongue back and forth as he moved now, and Lee's spine arched. Richard was skilled with his tongue, Lee would give him that - it figured, he supposed, with the man's previous sexual experience. The suction of his mouth and the delicate curls and twists of his tongue had Lee grasping at Richard's hair, trying hard not to push him.

Richard got the message, though, and he sank down yet further, until Lee's cock brushed the back of his throat. Lee groaned low as Richard took more and more, moved mouth and tongue and hand faster to match. Richard seemed determined to succeed at this, until he moved too fast - his throat contracted, his teeth grazed along Lee's cock as he pulled off, gasping.

"Hey, hey, careful," Lee urged, reaching down to touch Richard's cheek. "Take it slow, huh?" Richard nodded.

"Practice makes perfect, I suppose," Richard said with a quirk of the corner of his mouth, and began to lean back down, but Lee stopped him, moving his hand to grip the side of Richard's head.

"I've got a different idea." Lee rolled to the side, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand, and tossed his bottle of lube down the bed to Richard. Richard's eyes went wide; he looked at the bottle, then up at Lee, who was still fishing for a condom.

"I've never..." Richard looked sheepish. He picked up the bottle and uncapped it.

"Put some on your fingers - it's hard to use too much." Richard proceeded to prove him wrong, veritably soaking his fingers in the stuff. The man winced as it dripped onto the sheets, but as he touched an experimental finger to Lee's entrance, Lee shuddered and Richard's eyes turned dark and hungry again.

Lee had watched Richard's fingers while he'd played, had imagined them sinking into him until he'd thought he'd pretty much summoned the full extent of it up in his mind. But those visions paled in comparison to the reality of how it felt as Richard pressed one careful finger into him, impossibly long. Lee sighed as he pulled out, then pushed back in again, achingly slow.

"Is that good?" Richard murmured, his brows furrowed in worry as he looked up at Lee.

"It will be," Lee urged, tilting his hips to get Richard's finger deeper into him. Thankfully, the man began to speed up, the drag of his callused fingertip providing a delightful friction. "You can add another," Lee suggested, and Richard obeyed. If one had been good, two were amazing, stretching him open with their breadth. Lee moaned softly, opening his legs wider.

"You can curl them, press up like - like _that_ ," Lee groaned. Richard may have been inexperienced, but he was fantastic at following directions, crooking his fingers at an angle that sent warmth curling through Lee's entire body. He picked up the tempo, and Lee was panting and rocking under him.

"Another?" Lee bit his lip hard and nodded. His eyes slipped shut as a third finger entered him, stretching him yet further. There was the slightest tinge of pain there, but it only made the pleasure greater, like salt on chocolate, and after a moment it passed entirely. The movements of Richard's fingers pulled short, choked noises out of Lee's throat with each thrust. He rocked into them, needing it deeper and faster and _more_.

"I need," Lee gasped, clutching at Richard's free hand. "I need you - _fuck_ , I need you in me." Richard licked his lips, gave a couple more enthusiastic strokes with his fingers before pulling them free and reaching for the foil packet. It slipped in his fingers, slick as they were. "C'mere," Lee said, reaching out a hand, and Richard pressed the packet into it and came closer, moving across the bed on his knees.

Richard fumbled at his belt while Lee ripped the foil open, maneuvered his body to get the rest of his clothing off, and then he was kneeling again, next to Lee's torso, as Lee reached forward to roll smooth latex over his cock. It was impressive indeed, just as he'd imagined, as big as the rest of him. Lee gave it a stroke from base to tip, and Richard shuddered beautifully, turning and leaning back until his head hit pillows.

"That's how you want it, huh?" Lee said softly, moving to kneel over Richard's stomach. He was beautiful, all spread out under Lee, lean lines of muscle. Lee ran his hands over Richard's chest and leaned forward to press a lingering kiss to his lips. Richard gripped Lee's hips and tilted up, his cock sliding along the cleft of his ass. Lee rocked back against it for a teasing moment, continuing the kiss, until he couldn't bear to wait any longer. He sat up, shifted back and up on his knees, reached back to grip Richard's cock as he guided it into place.

Lee sank down gradually, savoring every inch he took in. He watched Richard's face, how his mouth dropped open as his cock breached that first ring of muscle, how he mouthed unspoken words. Lee exhaled long and low as he continued the plunge, his breath hitching here and there. It seemed an eternity before his hips were flush against Richard's the man's cock fully sheathed inside him. Lee clenched purposefully around Richard, muscles rippling within him, and Richard groaned out, a low guttural noise that vibrated through Lee's whole body.

Lee started slow, with gentle rolls of his hips. He could certainly take it faster, knew he'd been prepped enough that he didn't have to worry, but he wanted to memorize the feeling of Richard inside him. Richard's eyes were glued to his body, wide and blue and filled with desire, and Lee arched and twisted just for the pleasure of Richard watching him do it.

"God, you're gorgeous," Richard murmured. Lee bit his lip, smiling down at him. It sounded absolutely sincere, coming from this man's lips, and it made Lee confident as he began to tilt up and down, working his hips to fuck himself onto Richard. Richard groaned out, gripping Lee's hipbones hard. His thumbs pressed in so hard they hurt, in the best way.

The tempo of their breathing picked up as Lee began to speed his movements. He braced a hand on the bed next to him to give himself more leverage, and the other traveled up to cup the side of Richard's face, his thumb tracing along his jaw, his lips. Richard's tongue darted out to trace along his thumb, then his lips sucked the first joint in, catching it between his teeth. Lee wondered how that tongue would feel inside him, wondered if Richard was a biter. There were so many things to discover.

"Come here," Richard said after releasing Lee's thumb, reached a hand up Lee's back to urge him closer, his body bending down until their torsos were nearly parallel. Richard kissed him, hard and sloppy and delicious, and his hands gripped tighter as he snapped his hips upward, harder and faster than Lee's slow grind. Lee moaned loud, heedless of what the neighbors might hear, and it only added to Richard's urgency.

"Please," Lee breathed, twisting his head around to mouth at the shell of Richard's ear. He ran his tongue along the lobe, grazed his teeth over it. "I need more, I need - oh!"

The breath was knocked out of Lee as Richard wrapped his arms around his torso and rolled them both sideways, pushing Lee's back into the mattress. Lee laughed, then groaned, then groaned louder as Richard drove into him, hard and fast and unrelenting. Lee's legs wrapped around Richard's waist, heels digging into his ass, urging him on. He was close, he could feel it, and he arched his hips upward to meet Richard's thrusts.

"C'mon," Lee gritted out, reaching down to grip his own cock, but Richard grabbed his wrist, then the other, half growling as he pinned them down over Lee's head.

"Not yet," Richard muttered, and Lee whined as the man slowed to a near stop. "I've wanted this," he panted, "Since I met you. Need to make it last." The slow drag of Richard's cock was unbearable, and Lee wriggled against him, needing more.

"Tell me what you wanted," Lee breathed, rolling his body under Richard's to the new tempo he'd set.

"I wanted to kiss every inch of you," Richard began softly, his breath warm against Lee's ear. "I wanted to map you, learn every mark on your body." He shifted his grip to enclose both of Lee's wrists in one hand. The other splayed across Lee's chest, tracing a path from freckle to freckle. "I wanted to know what you taste like, what your cock tastes like - even better than I'd thought." Richard's voice was wrecked, and Lee knew he was right when he'd thought he would get off on it alone. Adding the feeling of his cock inside him made it even better.

"I wanted to stretch you open just like this, wanted to fuck you just like this," Richard continued, beginning to speed his thrusts slightly. "I wanted to fuck you 'til neither of us could move, then do it all over again." Lee arched under Richard, rolling his body. "I wanted to make music out of you, make you moan and yell and scream and - I wanted to make you come. And I wanted to taste that too, drink it up." Lee whined softly, pressing his hips up to get the friction of Richard's stomach against his cock.

"I just wanted _you_ ," Richard finished, "Any way you'd have me," and pressed a kiss to Lee's jaw, and pulled his cock nearly all the way out, and then slammed in again, moving fast now, hard, and so good. Lee cried out, an overwhelmed sob of pleasure. Richard's free hand moved to Lee's thigh, pressing his legs back, his hips up, and there it was, that spot that sent a burning tingle through Lee's whole body.

"There," Lee babbled, "There, that's perfect, that's fuck, Richard, I can't - I need -" His eyes stared into Richard's and the man read something in them, knew what Lee needed. He gripped Lee's cock, finally, in his firm, callused hand, stroked fast and thrust in even faster. Lee was panting now, groaning and pleading and swearing on every exhale.

"When you're ready," Richard gasped out, and he was almost there, too, Lee could tell, and when he felt his body buzzing, when he felt he could hold out no further, he took a deep breath in and nodded his head. And when Lee's whole body tightened and Richard's hips stuttered and they both cried out long and low together, Lee thought that must have been the most beautiful music he'd ever heard.

\---

When Lee woke in the morning, he almost forgot why the front of his body was so warm, why his right arm seemed to have lost feeling in the night. But as he opened his eyes to find Richard wrapped in his arms, Lee smiled, tightening his embrace for a moment. He dropped a kiss onto Richard's neck, and the man stirred slightly before mumbling something unintelligible and slipping seemingly deeper into sleep.

Lee thought about going back to sleep, about curling against Richard and sinking with him into dreaming. He wanted to, but as soon as he'd realized where he was and who was with him, his brain had sprung into action, dreaming up a thousand scenarios of what they could do with this morning. Richard, however, seemed lost to sleep, and Lee couldn't bear to wake him.

So reluctantly, Lee dug himself out, slowly extracting his arm from where it was wrapped under Richard's torso. He tried not to move too heavily on the mattress as he crawled out of bed. His arm tingled, and he shook it, stretched it, wincing with every motion. He grabbed some fresh underwear from the drawer, easing it open and shut, and figured he was dressed enough to head out of his bedroom.

Tea came first, setting the kettle and listening carefully so he could turn the heat off just before it whistled. Lee made up a pot of the black tea Richard had selected last weekend, set out two mugs. He melted butter in a pan, cracked in four eggs, and hoped Richard liked them scrambled - it was the only way he could fix them up, anyway, with his lack of skill in that arena. He plated them up with toast, set them out with the mugs, grabbed the jam jar and whatever seasonings the eggs could require.

All that, though, and Richard was still sleeping peacefully when Lee looked in on him, breathing in snuffles. Lee watched him for a bit, gazed over the sleek line of his back, the swell of his shoulders, the graceful angle of his nose against the pillow. Gentle beams of sunlight glowed over Richard's body. He'd never been so lucky as this, Lee thought, to have this man in his bed.

Never before had Lee felt such need to make music, to let the affection he felt building within him pour out of his fingers. He went to the main room, sat down at the piano. A morning like this called for Chopin, and although the time of day was hardly fitting, he found his fingers moving into a nocturne, simple and soft and flowing.

Lee tried to play quietly at first, not wanting to wake Richard, but as the simple melody took on more and more elaborations, his playing grew in intensity. He became careless, wrapped up in the music, and didn't hear light footsteps padding across the floor. The feeling of a hand on his waist took Lee by surprised, but he kept playing even as he curled into the arms that wrapped around his torso as Richard sat down on the bench next to him.

Richard's chin rested on Lee's shoulder, his exhales tickling the side of his neck as Richard watched him play. Lee couldn't help but to show off - Chopin demanded virtuosity, and Lee delivered, notes trickling gracefully from his fingers. He wanted to impress Richard, wanted to confirm to the man that he'd made the right choice, that this _was_ real. As he reached the cadence, the huff of breath that Richard let out seemed to show that he'd succeeded.

"Morning," Richard murmured after the final note had faded completely. He ran a hand along Lee's side, pressed a kiss to his jaw, and Lee arched into the touch happily. He breathed in deep, and the smell of eggs and toast reminded him.

"Made us breakfast," Lee said softly. "Probably cold by now." Richard's hand dipped lower, past the curve of Lee's lower back to the swell of his hip.

"Then it won't matter if we let it wait a little."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all, folks! Hope you enjoyed this journey into the land of music. Up next: finishing Mirror, Mirror, and then a series of historical AU bits & pieces!
> 
> Edit as of July 2016:
> 
> So just for your own reference - if you find yourself writing about semi-autobiographical identity confusion and the character in question ends up realizing they're bi/pan... maybe take it as a sign. Just sayin'.


End file.
